DM of Oz
by Fiddler55
Summary: Summary: After working too hard, Amanda finds herself a surprise visitor to Oz, and the number one murder suspect in the death of the Wicked Witch of the East!
1. Movie Time

Disclaimer: The characters of Mark Sloan, Steve Sloan, Amanda Bentley, Jesse Travis, Cheryl Banks, and Chief Masters do not belong to me but to CBS, Viacom et al. All songs or portions thereof from the 1939 MGM film of The Wizard of Oz are the property of Turner Entertainment and Warner Brothers. This fanfic is designed primarily as a parody of The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum, as well as the film, although it contains the occasional potshot at various other fairy tales, cartoon characters and other bits and pieces of the absurd. Any resemblance of any characters in this story to any living person is really, truly, totally accidental.

I would like to thank Janine Lewis for providing the original idea for the story (and the Fab Four's alter egos). Janine had originally hoped to participate in the writing, but her studies firmly insisted on right of precedence. Nevertheless, she was able to read at least the first few chapters and giggle along. Janine, I hope you'll have a chance to read and enjoy the rest!

Amanda Bentley relaxed back against the sofa cushions, grateful for the opportunity to kick back and relax while sharing one of her favorite movies with the boys. Although she and C.J. had watched it before, Dion had never seen it, and she was getting a real kick out of watching his reactions. He always tried to be so cool, but the sudden shriveling away of the Wicked Witch's legs, leaving only the ruby slippers, had made him jump anyway. Now he sat, pretending it hadn't startled him, but riveted to the TV just the same.

She took a sip of her iced tea and stretched comfortably. She was soooo tired; it had been a long, hard week, with more bodies than usual. Everyone had been a bit tense; even Mark had been preoccupied, and Steve and Jesse had been downright cranky, bickering about adding new items to the BBQ Bob's menu. Thank goodness for the weekend!

As she listened to the familiar songs and dialogue, her thoughts drifted, and her eyes slowly closed. . .


	2. Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead

The sunlight burned Amanda's eyelids as she woke up. She sat up on her sofa and stretched. "C.J., Dion, what time is it?"

No answer.

"Hello?" she said looking around. The house was still and too quiet for her liking. "Boys, this isn't funny anymore," she said, standing up preparatory to pouncing upon her mischievous sons.

Something didn't feel right after she stood. All of her furniture was displaced, as if an earthquake or tornado had ripped it apart. She got up and immediately went to the front door, throwing it open, and stepped out into the familiar fairy-tale land she had seen hundreds of times. "I don't think I'm in L.A. any more," she said slowly, just as she heard giggling, but no culprits could be seen.

As Amanda walked out farther, a mysterious bubble drifted down from the sky. The bubble splintered on landing, forming into a person, and Amanda let out a yelp as she turned and saw the stranger. "Who are you?" she asked shakily.

"I'm Cheryl, the Good Witch of the North." replied the other, who looked amazingly like Cheryl Banks, Steve Sloan's partner.

Amanda stared open-mouthed. The spun-silk dress, and the magic wand, and the high crown were the same as from her beloved movie, and the woman was wearing what had to be a wig of long, loose, light-auburn curls, but the face was unmistakably Cheryl's. And it was starting to look a tad concerned, as Amanda suddenly felt a little dizzy and staggered.

"Girl, you need to sit down. You've obviously come a long way, and it looks like you had a rough landing." Cheryl took her arm solicitously and led her over to something that looked like a very large mushroom with red and white spots, settling her down on it. She glanced around and clapped her hands. "Children! Some refreshment for the lady!"

Amanda continued to gape as several small heads, followed by small people, suddenly popped out from amongst the technicolor shrubbery everywhere. They had kewpie doll faces, and little funny beards, and funny clothes – "Munchkins!" she exclaimed, only realizing what she had said after she had said it.

And they promptly broke out into song. Feeling slightly ridiculous, she sang along with them. "—welcome you to Munchkinlaaaaand!" she warbled happily.

After the initial start of surprise that the stranger knew their song, the Munchkins sang with such enthusiasm that a small contingent tried to break into "99 Bottles of Sarsparilla on the Wall," before being roundly lambasted by the rest. "We don't sing that until after dinner," one scolded.

Amanda laughed, then sobered as a disquieting thought crept into her mind. If this was Munchkinland, then she was in Oz. And if she was in Oz, she had gotten there – how. She glanced to her right – nothing but more shrubs, houses which by their size and fantastic design obviously belonged to Munchkins. Her eyes slid to the left; more of the same. Reluctantly, she swiveled around on the obliging mushroom, only to gasp in horror at the scene before her.

There, at a somewhat crazy tilt, sat her house. Two long, bony legs, clad in revolting white and red striped tights, stuck out from underneath it at improbable angles. On the end of each leg reposed a twinkling sapphire slipper. ("Wait a minute!" Amanda cried. "They're supposed to be ruby slippers!" "So your dream designer goofed. We got your basic All-American wicked witch," a disembodied voice in her mind replied. She decided it might be wiser not to be difficult, and subsided.)

"Oh, my God," Amanda cried. She ran hastily into the house. "C.J.? Dion? Boys, where are you? Come out right now, this is serious!" But the boys were nowhere to be found, and she finally resigned herself to the fact that her first impression had been right. Where she was, however, was another matter entirely. She wandered back outside, and found the horde of Munchkins clustered around the legs, pointing and whispering fearfully. Cheryl the Good Witch stood nearby, smiling amiably at the little ones.

Amanda marched up to her. "So aren't you supposed to do something about those things, like make them shrivel up or something?"

Cheryl stared at her in a rather bizarrely superior fashion. "That's so passé, don't you think? Water works just as well." She pointed her wand at a large watering can sitting near the house. "Help yourself."

Amanda looked at Cheryl, then the watering can, then back to the Good Witch again. "This wasn't in the movie," she muttered, but she picked up the watering can and sprinkled the sprawled legs, which obligingly crawled up themselves and disappeared, leaving the sparkling blue shoes. The Munchkins uttered a series of oohs and aahs and other assorted slightly musical noises, some of which seemed to contain the words "ding," "dong," and "dead," as well as some truly excruciatingly high-pitched screeches.

Amanda gave Cheryl another look, and the Good Witch sighed.

"Oh, all right. You can have the shoes." With a flounce, she waved her wand at them, and at Amanda, who found they fit like a dream. But the sparkling of her feet was suddenly dimmed as a shadow blotted out the sun, and her new little pals scurried for cover, moaning piteously.

"You killed my sister! You shall pay, Dorothy!"

The voice, which sounded like someone scraping the bottom of an old rusty bucket, came from above, and Amanda craned her neck to see a scrawny, repulsively ugly woman riding on a broomstick and brandishing her fist threateningly. This was better, Amanda thought. At least this one was sticking to the story. She raised her voice so the apparition could hear her. "I didn't kill your sister." She started to add, "My house fell on her," but for some reason she was reluctant to admit it. Something about the look in the old bat's eyes said she knew more than she was willing to let on.

"Yes, you did, you miserable girl!" the witch hissed at her. "And I'm going to make sure you pay for it! Even in Oz, murder doesn't go unpunished!"

Cheryl spoke up. "The Wicked Witch of the East is dead. You're not welcome here, so you might as well get out of town."

Amanda giggled. "Go West, old hag!"

The Good Witch shot her a look. "Don't steal my lines, honey." She waved her wand menacingly at the witch in the sky. "Don't make me come up there."

The Wicked Witch of the West, recognizing superior firepower when she saw it, snarled something indistinct and flew off in a huff, grumbling to herself. Amanda glanced upwards, where a tendril of smoke from the witch's exit still hung threateningly in the sky. "No one's going to take her seriously, are they?"

Cheryl shrugged. "She is a witch, even if she's seriously challenged in the looks and charm departments."

This was not good. Amanda turned to Cheryl pleadingly. "Glinda - I mean Cheryl, I need to get home. I don't know where my boys are, or if they're even all right. And what am I going to do about that hideous old woman accusing me of killing her sister?"

Cheryl gave her a pitying glance. "But, Dorothy, you know the way."

Amanda eyed her warily. "No, I don't. And my name's not Dorothy, it's Amanda."

Cheryl smiled at her warmly. "Of course it is. Dorothy -"

"Amanda."

"Amanda, then." Cheryl pouted. "All you have to do is -" and she performed a graceful flourish with her wand to point at Amanda's blue-shoed feet. "Follow the orange brick road to ask the Magus for help."

Orange? And – Magus? Amanda thought. That didn't sound right; wasn't it supposed to be –

"Follow the orange brick road!" squeaked a Munchkin, sprouting up underfoot, and making her jump. "Follow the orange brick road!" piped another, appearing suddenly at her left side, with similar results. Munchkins began popping up like jack-in-the-boxes, here, there, and everywhere, all exhorting her to follow the orange brick road. In fact, shortly she heard a humming, and then they all broke out into song.

"Follow the orange brick road! Follow the orange brick road! Follow, follow, follow -"

Well, she knew this one too at least. Sooner or later, she'd get to the end of this madness, but - it might be kind of fun to sing the song and skip down the strangely different bricks in the flashing sapphire slippers. Maybe she'd even get to meet - well, you never knew. She linked arms with the two tallest Munchkins so she only had to hunch over a little, and danced down the road, singing, as Cheryl and the rest of the Munchkins waved goodbye.


	3. Scarecrow

Amanda followed the orange brick road as instructed. "This is so eas-" she said, just as she reached a four-way intersection. "Great. Why didn't I see this coming?" she asked herself.

"See what coming?" a voice said. It sounded familiar.

"Who said that?" Amanda looked around her.

"Up here," the voice said.

Slowly, she looked up, thinking crazily that the voice sounded just like Mark's. There on a pole lounged a scarecrow, Mark's familiar grin on its face. "Lost?" he asked.

"Yes, well, I mean, I don't know – I guess so. Do I know you?" she asked.

"I don't know, I've never seen you before. At least, I don't think I have. By the way, I'm Mark." He tried to bow, but the pole kept him from getting very far, so he flapped his hands at her instead.

"Hi, I'm Amanda." She walked closer to the scarecrow, peering at him closely. If she squinted, he looked a lot like Mark!

"Where you going?" Mark asked.

"To see the Wiz – I mean the Magus. See, I have a little predicament," Amanda said.

The scarecrow cocked his head to one side. "What kind of predicament?" As she took a deep breath, he looked at her in alarm. "Is this going to be a long story?" he asked.

Amanda gave him a puzzled look. "Uh – I'm not sure."

"Well, then, my dear Amanda," Mark said, "would you be so kind as to help me get down from this pole, and then I can sit and listen to you more comfortably."

She thought about it, and couldn't see any reason not to help him. "Okay," she replied, and put her hands tentatively around his ribs, making him giggle a little, and she jumped. "Scarecrows are ticklish?" she demanded.

"Why not?" he replied, still laughing.

Amanda shrugged. It made as much sense as everything else that had happened. "Okay." She grabbed him more firmly, ignoring the giggling, and lifted him up enough so he could fall off of the pole, which he did, flopping about for some time before he collected his arms and legs sufficiently to settle properly on the ground. She plunked herself down beside him and began.

"I fell asleep, and I was dreaming, and then apparently a tornado picked up my house and deposited it here – in Oz. And it fell on the Wicked Witch of the East. And I need to get home to my sons, at least I hope that's where they are. And the Wicked Witch of the West accused me of murdering her sister. And Glinda – I mean Cheryl – the Good Witch told me to see the Wiz – I mean the Magus, and to follow the orange brick road, so here I am."

He said nothing, staring at her feet. "Her shoes!" he whispered, pointing. "You're wearing the sapphire slippers! The only way those would come off her feet is if she were dead!" He gave her a funny look and started to twitch his lower half sideways away from her.

Amanda glared at him. "Don't be silly. I didn't kill her. Cheryl thinks the Magus will be able to help me prove it. And, if you're really anything like my Mark, you'll help me too."

"Your Mark?" the scarecrow asked curiously.

She started to explain, but realized that it would make even less sense than her explanation of why she was wandering down the orange brick road. "Never mind. You don't have to do anything for me." She got up and brushed herself off. "Nice meeting you. I hope you are happy to be off of that pole."

"Wait!" he exclaimed, trying to get up, and finally holding out a hand pleadingly. "Help me up, please, Amanda! I'd love to help you!"

She looked down at him dubiously, but relented when he gave her Mark Sloan's engaging grin at her once more. "Okay. But you have to believe me when I say I didn't have anything to do with that awful woman's death."

He nodded so enthusiastically that his head bobbed up and down alarmingly. "Okay, I believe you."

Amanda reached down and took the scarecrow firmly by the arms, making sure she had a good grip on him; she didn't want to find herself holding an unattached hand stuffed with straw! It took a couple of minutes, as his footing was still a little shaky. They bobbed this way, and leaned that way, and she almost dropped him once, but finally he was more or less upright. "Which way?" he asked brightly.

Amanda pointed at the orange brick road. "I was at that intersection when you called to me." Hands on hips, she stared at the offending crossroads. "Wouldn't you know there's no sign."

The scarecrow thought for a moment, then lifted an arm in one direction. "The Magus lives in the Peridot City – that way." He stopped and stared at his arm, then raised the other. "No, that way." Another doubtful look, this time at both arms, and he switched them, half wrapping one around his body in the process. "Or maybe it's this –"

Amanda caught him as he started to try to turn without remembering to lift his feet first, resulting in precariously pretzeled legs. "Wait a minute, Mark. It's the Emerald City, isn't it?"

He grinned at her. "Not here, no, no. 's Peridot." He chuckled at his involuntary rhyme, and she suppressed an understandable urge to smack him.

"Okay, smarty. So which way is it, then?" she demanded.

Mark crossed his eyes, then got serious. "That way."

Amanda sighed in exasperation. He was pointing in the direction from which she had come. Obviously she was going to have to simply make an inspired guess, so she opted for the opposite road. "Let's try this way, Mark," she declared, and started off.

He fell in beside her, humming to himself. "We're off to eat the gizzard –"

"Wait a minute," Amanda objected. "That's not right."

He stared at her. "Of course. Ummmm – let me see." He gave an earnest imitation of a scarecrow without a brain trying to think, then began snapping his fingers in a rhythm that the startled Amanda identified as suspiciously close to rap.

"We're off, we're off, to see the Magus, we won't let anything try to drag us –"

Amanda winced. "That's terrible!"

He ignored her. "To see de M, we're gonna prove it, down this road we're gonna move it…" He started to bounce in time, and turned the brilliant goofy grin on her. "Come on, Amanda, sing with me!"

Amanda gave up. Without even realizing she was doing it, she linked her arm in his and took one skip, then another, until the two of them were dancing down the orange brick road.


	4. Tin Man

After several minutes of enthusiastic skipping, Amanda lost interest in violent exercise and slowed to a more sedate walk. The scarecrow didn't seem to miss a beat as he switched from his impromptu rap to a story about one of the Magus' more famous exploits, one she strongly suspected was pure fabrication. But she made polite noises of paying attention, allowing her troubled thoughts to return to the issue of the surviving Wicked Witch's accusation. Mark finally noticed her distraction, and wheedled her into sharing.

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully, as she finished. "If you had nothing to do with the Witch's death – ow!" He grinned at her forgivingly. "Just kidding, Amanda! That punch really didn't hurt."

"I didn't kill her," Amanda growled.

He nodded, or at least his head flopped up and down. "I believe you. But then someone else had to have done it. And was your house the true murder weapon, or was it dumped on top of the Witch so that no one would be able to tell how she was really killed? And who would benefit the most from her death?"

Amanda made a face. "The Munchkins certainly would, but I don't think the lot of them combined would have enough nerve to do it, unless they sang her to death."

Mark gave her an odd look. "They can hit some pretty high and piercing notes."

"She wasn't made of glass, was she?" Amanda asked with some irritation. "So unless she died of exploded eardrums, I can't see that the Munchkins' singing would have had anything to do with it. I was being facetious, for heaven's sake!"

He sighed. "I wouldn't know. I would if I had a brain -- and then I could figure it out for you." He pulled at his head. "See? Straw. No brain."

Amanda smiled at him kindly; at least she knew where this conversation was going. "We're going to see the Magus, aren't we? Maybe he can give you one."

His eyes grew round. "He could, couldn't he? He's the Magus; he can do anything!" He began to burble to himself happily.

She was distracted from his answer by an eerie groan – or maybe it was a whine – or a squeal? As she listened, puzzled, the strange metallic sound came again. Metallic – wait! she thought; could it be? She glanced to her left and saw a small house at the edge of a wood. "I bet it is!" she exclaimed, and ran towards the wood, wondering which one of her friends she was likely to meet next.

She wasn't disappointed. A short distance into the wood, she saw a tall, broad-shouldered, silvery figure standing frozen in a position which looked incredibly uncomfortable, if not theoretically impossible. As she drew closer, she saw that the silver was indeed metal (tin? she wondered), and that the face before her had the same strong chin and dimples as Steve Sloan, her favorite police lieutenant. Blue eyes blinked at her, and the mouth moved very slightly. "Urk," it said.

Amanda stopped, confused. "Urk?" she repeated.

Maybe the body couldn't move, but the eyes were extremely expressive. Right now, the look in them indicated that he was convinced he was talking to a halfwit. "Urk!" he said again, managing to give the syllable a little more intensity. The eyes looked at her meaningfully, then slid in the direction of the house.

Urk. Urk. This didn't fit at all, the sounds were all wrong, she thought. But he was obviously locked into place; and, if he was anything like her friend Steve, he was likely to be highly displeased about it, much less about any delay in remedying the situation. She plastered what she hoped was an encouraging look on her own face and hurried into the house, hoping whatever it was that the metal man wanted would be in plain sight.

Actually, it was. On the table by the door, practically wearing a sign that said "Pick ME!", was an oilcan. "Urk," Amanda said wonderingly. Well, maybe he had an accent or something. She hefted it experimentally; reassured by the weight of its contents, she hurried back out to where he was waiting. "Mouth first, I take it?" she inquired sweetly.

The metal man made a slightly huffy sound which hastily altered itself to something like "Ees" when she started to turn away in annoyance. Amanda administered a couple of drops to the joints of his mouth and waited while he slowly opened his jaw, shut it again, and worked it slowly and cautiously up and down. "Better?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you," Steve's voice said, making her jump, although she had been half expecting it considering the way her day had been going so far. "Would you mind doing something about this arm? I'm awfully tired of holding this axe over my head."

"Wouldn't you rather I oiled the leg you're not standing on?" Amanda wanted to know, thinking he looked like a lawn ornament, except he wasn't pink and he wasn't a flamingo. He gave her a telling look, and she hurriedly complied with his request, stepping back out of the way as he lowered the tool to the ground with a sigh of relief.

"That's better. I've been holding that thing up in the air like a demented samurai for years," he commented. He reached out and removed the oilcan from her unresisting hand, starting to apply the oil to his body, moving each part carefully until all of his joints began moving freely once more. "Thank you," he declared, and bowed, or tried to; he hadn't taken his back into account, and the return trip upwards was stopped rather rudely. "Ow," he muttered as Amanda and Mark rushed to his rescue. Once again, Amanda found herself trying to balance someone not exactly human until he found his footing; then she grabbed the oilcan and applied it to all the joints she could find, mumbling to herself.

Mission accomplished, she introduced herself. "My name's Amanda Bentley, and this is Mark the Scarecrow. We're on our way to the Peridot City to see the Magus, so he can solve the Wicked Witch's murder and send me home."

"And give me a brain," Mark added proudly.

The metal man eyed them suspiciously. "That's the craziest story I've heard in a long time."

"How would you know?" Amanda retorted. "You've been stuck there for years, so you couldn't possibly have heard much! And who are you, anyway?"

"Just because I'm a woodman and stick to my wood doesn't mean I don't know what's going on. And my name's Steve. And the City's that way." He pointed towards the road, and turned away.

Amanda couldn't help giggling. Rude though he was, his voice had the same testiness in it that her Steve got when he was feeling grouchy. The scarecrow picked up on her amusement and chuckled with her.

The woodman turned around. "What's so funny?" he demanded aggrievedly.

"You sound just like my friend Steve when he gets cranky," Amanda replied, trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

He gave her an irritated look. "It's a little difficult to be all nice and sweet when you don't have a heart, snookums. And with people telling you crazy stories about murdering the Wicked Witch of the East."

This was too much. "I didn't kill her!" Amanda shouted. "She was under my house when I walked out of it! For all I know, she was dead before it and I got there!" She stopped for breath and glared at him. "And why the hell – no, that's a silly question, forget I asked."

"Why what?" Steve demanded.

Amanda considered the silver face, obviously flustered despite its metallic state. "I was going to say, why don't you go and ask the Magus for a heart, but obviously he'd tell you to take a hike, you're so rude."

He glared at her, and she shrank back instinctively; then his face changed alarmingly. As she watched in horror, a large tear welled up in the corner of one eye as he stared at her in shock; he swiped at his face quickly and turned on his heel, walking away. Something about the set of his shoulders told her she had said something even more hurtful than she thought, and she ran after him. "Steve, wait! Please – I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings; wait!"

He stopped, but continued to present his back, and mumbled something.

"What did you say?" Amanda asked suspiciously.

"I used to have one, but it's gone."

Oh. She'd forgotten how the original Tin Man had acquired his metal body one piece at a time with the help of an itinerant wizard. How awful, she thought, to have had a heart once, but not to be able to feel the same emotions the same way again. (Certainly would have solved the other Steve's relationship problems, that ironic voice in her head commented; she hushed it firmly.) "I'm very sorry, Steve. Really." And of course her mouth kept going, while the brain asked why: "Why don't you come with us to see the Magus? You could ask him for a heart. And I'm sure you could help us figure out who murdered the Witch."

His back was still turned, but the shoulders were starting to relax. "You've got a scarecrow already; why would you need me?"

She smiled to herself. "Because you're obviously strong, the way you handle that axe, so you'd certainly be able to provide protection; and, I don't know if you noticed, but the scarecrow doesn't exactly have a brain."

Steve turned around slowly. "Are you sure?" he asked reluctantly.

Amanda nodded, and stared in amazement at the incredible smile which spread across his face, the same irresistibly attractive grin Steve Sloan turned on many an unsuspecting woman. This really was too weird, she thought. When she got home, she was definitely have to start either getting more sleep or -- drinking more. She realized both men were staring at her with some concern, and grinned at them. "Okay, fellas," she said, linking elbows with each one, "this is how we do it here in Oz: We're ---- off to see de M of Oz ---" And they were on the road once more, skipping down the orange bricks with abandon.


	5. Animals Large and Small

They were still gallivanting along when something that looked like the bottom end of a mop darted out of the underbrush and planted itself in front of them. A shrill yapping emanated from what might possibly be a head but was too hairy to tell for sure.

Amanda stopped and squatted down. "Aren't you the cutest thing! C'mere, darling!"

It shook itself, and gradually one snapping black eye could be seen peering from the mop's head. "Rrrrr?" it said questioningly.

She held her arms out. "Come on, I won't bite you."

The animal, such as it appeared to be, made a snap decision and launched itself into her arms with a happy noise, wiggling furiously. Something pink and wet snaked out from the hair and licked Amanda's nose, making her giggle.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Steve said. "Is that supposed to be a dog? It looks like something I'd clean the house with."

Amanda glared at him. "I think he's cute. And he obviously has good taste." The dog confirmed her opinion by licking her nose again and growling at the woodman. "See? He knows whom he likes best." She hugged the small creature. "You need a name."

Steve suggested "Rat"; Amanda steadfastly ignored him. "Of course!" she laughed. "Toto it is!"

They had been walking and chatting for some time when yet another animal burst from the trees alongside and leapt in front of them. This one, however, was considerably larger than Toto; it was tawny, and had large, pointed teeth, as well as a long, waving tail. And the noise it was making was considerably deeper than the small dog's bark.

"Grrrrrrrrr! Who dares pass by the King of the Forrrrrrest?"

Once over her immediate startlement, Amanda realized its voice wasn't nearly as deep as she would have expected. In fact, it was more of a tenor voice. And the mane – instead of curling all around its head, mostly stood up on top of it. "Jesse?" she asked semi-hysterically.

"Huh? How did you --- I mean, Grrrrrrrr!" It waved furry arms and legs at them, and, after a moment, its long, slightly mangy tail as well.

There was a pause as the three travelers contemplated the newcomer and he stared back at them. Toto yapped, then made a huffy sound suspiciously like a snort of disgust. Finally, Amanda took a wild guess and ventured, "Are you the Cowardly Lion?"

"I'm not cowardly!" the lion declared stoutly. "I'm just – cautious, that's all." He attempted a fierce glare, which didn't quite go with the natural kindness of his eyes. "I'm strong, and fierce, and the rrrrruler of all I see!" He stopped and glanced at them nervously. "Aren't you scared of me?"

"No," Steve replied bluntly, swinging his axe back and forth nonchalantly.

The lion eyed the weapon and its wielder, and edged backwards ever so slightly. "Not just a little, eensy-weensy bit?"

Amanda started to laugh. "I'm sorry, Lion, but I'm afraid not. Even without Steve and his axe."

The lion scratched its chin. "Hmmm. This isn't good. Not good at all. People are supposed to be scared of lions. What's this world coming to?" He glared at them. "What's the matter with you people anyway?"

Amanda felt sorry for him. "Well, Mark's a scarecrow, so there really isn't any reason for him to be afraid of you, and, well, Steve already gave you his opinion…and I think you're kind of cute, actually."

The lion jumped. "Cute?" he repeated in shock. "Lions aren't supposed to be cute. Lions are supposed to be fearsome. Oh, dear." A big, fat tear welled up in one eye and started to drip down his nose. "Some king of the forrrrest I am. Can't even scare a - a little girrrrl. Thinks I'm – cute." He sat down on the ground and put his shaggy head in his paws.

Amanda glanced at her companions. Mark was smiling (of course, that was the expression painted on his face, she thought), but his eyes were serious. Steve looked disgusted. Toto had slipped out of her arms and was sniffing around the bigger animal's toes. She sat down next to the lion. "Come on, Lion, it's not that bad. I'm just not as little as you think. So you probably would be a lot more frightening to the right people."

"Hmmmpfh." He didn't sound particularly convinced. "That's supposed to make me feel better? Probably? And you don't have to keep calling me Lion. I do have a name."

"Not Mangy or Cowardly?" Steve asked sarcastically.

Amanda threw him a severe look. "Steve, please. I'm sorry. My name is Amanda Bentley, and my companions are Mark the Scarecrow and Steve the Tin Woodman. And of course Toto. What's your name?"

"Jesse," the lion mumbled. "It rrrrreally is Jesse. I was just mad because you weren't scared."

Amanda stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. Why this would surprise her at this point, she couldn't imagine. "We're going to the Peridot City to see the Magus," she said gently. "Would you like to come along?"

He started giggling suddenly; Toto had undergone a change of heart, and was now licking the lion's toes. Amanda scooped the small dog up in her arms and waited. "Why are you going to see the Magus, Amanda?"

Quickly, she explained about her house, and her boys, and the mystery surrounding the Wicked Witch's death, then threw in the clincher. "Mark and Steve are going to ask the Magus for brains and a heart. Isn't there something you might like to ask for?" she suggested.

Jesse glanced sideways at Mark's friendly face and Steve's suspicious one. "Well – can you keep a secret, Amanda?"

She nodded. Encouraged, he continued. "I'm really not as brrrrave as I'd like to be, or like people to think. That's rrrreally not very good for a lion, especially the Rrrrrruler of the Forrrrest. Do you suppose the Magus would give me some courrrrrage?"

Some what? "Bless you," Amanda replied automatically, before her confused brain deleted a few extraneous r's and made the connection, and she smiled. This one at least should prove to be a little easier. "Of course, Jesse. He's a Magus, after all. Does that mean you'll come with us?"

The lion leapt to his feet and bowed to her gallantly, then tucked his tail gracefully over one arm and reached down a paw to help her up. "Absolutely, Amanda. And then I can help you solve your mysterrry!" He did a little one-two skip, and she joined him, beckoning the others to clasp arms along with them, and once more they were off, a foursome this time, dancing down the orange brick rrrrroad – sorry, road. The Editor begs the Reader's forgiveness; We simply got carried away by the Lion's – er – enthusiasm.


	6. In the West

To the west, in a castle perched precariously – actually, against all the laws of physics – on a craggy hill in the middle of a parched plain dotted with stubs of leafless trees, the sole surviving Wicked Witch hunched over her crystal ball, snarling to herself and foaming at the mouth as she watched the progress of the odd little crew. She had to stop that interfering, much too attractive newcomer before Dorothy/Amanda/whatever she called herself reached the Peridot City and the Magus. If Himself found out what the Witch had been up to, her goose would be well and truly cooked. She shuddered, imagining herself as a scrawny, featherless, squawking fowl in a pointy hat heading feet first for a boiling pot of water. Would she melt before she became a holiday dinner? Would she…the Witch shook herself, refusing to follow that weird little line of thought before it got any more inventive, and passed her hand over the ball. "Show me their planned route – and put a lid on the pop-up ads!"

There was a discreet cough from her side, where the leader of the Flying Gerbils stood, looking bored and irritated. Actually, he had looked cross since the day she got tired of flying monkeys and transformed him and his entire crew into several different varieties of animals before settling, a singularly unpleasant smile on her repulsive visage, upon their present form. After all, just how fearsome can a flying gerbil be? Not particularly aerodynamic, that was clear; the unfortunate beasts had spent a lengthy time readjusting to their new dimensions and body weights, with quite a few bumpy, not to mention precipitate, landings, before getting the hang of it. "Why don't you just send a spell, my queen?"

She spared him a withering look, although the fat ratty body didn't seem to be impressed and maintained its lumpy state. "Once I know where they are, I will." She bent over the crystal again and cackled. "How delightful! The Old Forest, then the field of geraniums!" She reached for her mortar and pestle, directing her reluctant lieutenant to bring her spellbook and various vile ingredients. "First an encounter with the trees; and, if they succeed in escaping, such fatigue once they approach the geraniums that they'll seek the flowerbeds to rest, there to sleep….forever!" She gave a triumphant chortle and slid an eye in his direction; obediently, the hapless gerbil clapped his hands and jumped around for a little while, doing his best imitation of a capering flying monkey with a few screws loose and wishing he had moved to Kansas when he had the chance.


	7. Belligerent Plant Life

Amanda peered doubtfully down the glaring orange path. Only a few minutes before they had been following it as it wended its cheerful way through lush fields, the occasional annoying babble of a brook to be heard in the distance. Then the road dipped slightly, and the abundant green of crops had altered, first to scrub, then to thicket, as the bricks led straight into what looked like a very dark forest. She shivered, remembering the cruel trees in the movie, and glanced away, hoping she would see something else when she turned back.

No such luck. The wood still stood, and her companions were starting to give her questioning glances.

"Something wrong?" Steve inquired testily.

Amanda squared her shoulders. What was wrong with her? After all, she had her Woodman and his axe to deal with the trees, although that niggling little part of her brain was disputing the wisdom of that plan. But there was no way to avoid the wood, so – "Nothing," she replied, then laid a cautionary hand on his arm. "But I have a feeling about these trees, Steve. Please try not to cut any of them unless you absolutely have to."

He gave her a funny look. "Why should I have to? The road runs right through, see? As long as nobody gets off of it, we should be fine." This last was accompanied by a glare at Toto, who had been happily gallivanting all over the place, and Amanda scooped the little dog up in her arms defensively. "All right, let's go. They're just trees, after all," she said bravely, hoping she was right.

Her statement almost proved true. They had gone most of the way through the wood, and daylight could be seen up ahead, when disaster struck. The Witch's spell finally finished traveling (she was too cheap to go Oz Express), and seeped into the trees. One of the gnarled oaks close to the road opened its eyes crossly, having been rousted out of a truly enjoyable dream involving a wood nymph (the details of which are better left unexplored!), and saw the Lion's tail waving right in front of it. Groggy and cranky, the tree grabbed and yanked.

Jesse had been humming his song quietly to himself to keep up his courrrrage, and the next line came out in a yelp. "Of the forrrrr--- Ow!" The light of battle in his eyes, he swung around to face the presumptuous attacker, but was stopped short when the tree refused to let go. "Hey! That's my tail, you overgrown piece of shrubbery!"

The tree gave him a nasty look. "'Oo you callin' shrubbery?" It paused and cocked what appeared to be its head as another tree whispered hastily to it, then straightened and bowed. "Sorry. Wrong movie. Errumph. How dare you address the Oldest Tree as shrubbery, you mangy excuse for a coat?"

Amanda decided it would be best to interfere before the combatants indulged in more name-calling. "Excuse me, sir. We didn't mean to offend you."

"And that axe isn't offensive?" the tree inquired, gesturing at the Woodman, who had raised his weapon to a position of readiness.

The tree had a point. "Uh, Steve," Amanda remonstrated, "would you mind lowering your axe just a little bit?" He grumbled, and she glared at him. "Please? Now?"

"Oh, all right." The axe drooped, but the muttering took a little longer to subside. She waited patiently, then turned back to the tree. "We are traveling to the Peridot City, to see the Magus, and beg your permission to continue our way through your wood."

The tree seemed to be wavering in its ire; it yanked absently on the hapless Lion's tail as it deliberated. Wisely, Jesse kept his mouth shut, although his furry fists clenched in irritation. "We will let you pass on one condition."

"What's that?" Mark asked, ever curious.

"The Wicked Witch of the West came here recently and stole one of my limblings. You must promise to persuade the Magus to retrieve it."

"Why?" inquired the irrepressible scarecrow, missing the sudden irate gleam in the tree's eyes, and jumping hastily aside (and falling down in the process) as a branch snapped out towards him.

"Do not test my patience any further!" the tree roared, waving its limbs around in increasingly threatening patterns. "Your promise, and you may depart, quickly! Otherwise we will crush you all!"

No more questions, Amanda told herself. Maybe the Magus would know why the Witch needed the branch. In the meantime, it was high time to leave. "You have my word," she promised, and grabbed one Scarecrow arm as Steve seized the other, and they fled the wood with the laughter of the trees ringing in their ears.

Once safely away, the little band slowed so Amanda and the Lion could catch their breath. Steve was still muttering. "Who talks like that, anyway? I ask you!" He shook his head and hefted his axe. "One good whack, and he'd have been creaking a different tune!"

Amanda yawned. It was catching, at least for the Lion and the little dog; pink tongues flapped for a moment as beast and beast followed suit. Shaking herself, Amanda started off down the path, hoping its color would keep her awake. "Come on, you guys. Off to see the – well, you know."

Fatigue was starting to set in, though, and the skipping wasn't up to its previous enthusiastic pace. Amanda was starting to wonder how long she could go without a little rest, when the road curved up and around, and they found themselves gazing at fields of colorful flowers, stretching for as far as the eye could see. Oh, no, she thought fearfully, not the poppies! She snagged the delighted Lion's tail as he started to rush by her. "Wait, Jesse! Those are sleep poppies!"

He stopped and stared at her incredulously. "These aren't poppies, Amanda, they're geraniums. Even I know the difference."

Obviously the demented entity responsible for warping the story had struck again, Amanda mused. Could she trust these flowers? Or were they about to take an involuntary nap? And how could she be sure?

An unlikely savior presented himself. "Here, let me." Steve pushed by her, the little dog struggling in his arms. "You three walk up the path as fast as you can. I'll stay closest to the flowers; if Toto starts to drop off – which might be a blessing," he added as the dog tried to bite him, apparently unfazed by the metal of his arm, "then we'll run."

And if they couldn't pass the fields before the soporific nature of the blooms overcame them? Amanda wondered, but kept her mouth shut for the sake of peace. He'd just have to carry her – which might be rather fun actually. She grinned to herself and started speedwalking, the rest of them chugging behind.

She was rubbing her eyes, but still managing to press on, the Lion staggering after with Mark's support, as the flowerbeds started to diminish. Hope sprang, and subsided with a mighty yawn; the last of the blooms were the most potent. Amanda put down one foot, and picked up the other, which had grown noticeably heavier, only to succumb in mid-step. Only the unintentional intervention of Jesse, who had collapsed moments earlier, saved her as she plopped down on top of him, fast asleep.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Steve exploded. The combination of teary eyes and silly grin on the puzzled Scarecrow's face didn't help. "Come on, Mark, help me drag them down the road. At least out of the field they may be able to wake up sooner." It was probably just as well that Amanda was deeply under, as she definitely would not have appreciated being hauled up and flung unceremoniously over the broad tin shoulder, much less being deposited with minimally more care on the path once the landscape was clear. So much for romanticism in fairy tales!

Cheryl the Good Witch jumped as her Magic Mirror twitched and grunted at her. "Can't you just shimmer into the picture without the sound effects?" she grumbled. "It's not like I need to have a conversation with you, I know I'm beautiful."

The mirror scowled. "You never let me have any fun." It darkened, threatening to blur itself, and she relented.

"Okay. Show me and then I'll let you amuse yourself watching those scuzzy little flying rodents."

Its good humor restored, the mirror brightened. "Oh, good. Maybe she'll change them into something even more obnoxious. Here. Your little tourist is in trouble."

Cheryl blinked at the scene of sleeping girl, dog and lion, then again at the sight of the Woodman and the Scarecrow playing scissors-rock-paper with each other. "Sheesh. I don't even want to know what they've been doing." She considered a moment and muttered some tinkly-sounding words, wincing at the blatant sappiness of the spell and mentally reminding herself to order a more modern spellbook, then blew the sparkles that had magically appeared on her fingertips into the mirror. The mirror sneezed, but shimmered again obligingly, and showed a new scene.

Steve blinked at the tiny gold sprinkles which had appeared out of nowhere and were threatening to coat everything in sight. He held his finger up to his nose and focused, trying to keep his eyes from crossing. It wasn't – no, it couldn't be ---

"Pixie dust?" roared the long-suffering Woodman. "In Oz?"

The combination of little twitchy sprinkles on her face and the yelling, getting louder by the minute, woke Amanda from a very strange dream. She had been dreaming about Steve Sloan playing the Tin Woodman --- oh, no. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. If it was a dream, she was still in it. And Mark was still stuffed with straw, and Jesse furry and fuzzy, and a small pink tongue belonging to a small hairy dog was licking her hand, and there was that damn orange road. She sighed, and rose to try to calm Steve down before he started foaming at the mouth and rusting, and was distracted by the sound of ethereal voices.

"You're out of the dark, you're out of the woods, you're out of our spell –

You're an interfering bitch, we hope you go to h---"

"Hey!" Steve yelled. "Watch it! This is a family show!"

Amanda blinked and rubbed her eyes again. The flowers had – faces? And were singing? Wait a minute, she thought, wasn't that another story altogether? This was too much, she decided, and firmly gathered her little group together. Time to hit the road and work on getting the heck out of Oz.


	8. Peridot City

The doughty band of adventurers had, by tacit agreement, decided not to discuss the origin or the nature of the pixie dust, although Steve was still emitting the occasional whistling sound of disapproval through the funnel of his hat. Amanda decided not to remind him of a popular cartoon character from her childhood, and trudged along, her original optimism about their endeavor suffering considerably from the length of their journey. She was ready to reach the Peridot City and find the way home, and the next time she was inclined to share a good old-fashioned family movie with the boys she was going to rent something innocuous like "Jaws." And watch it with a tall, stiff drink in her hand. She almost said as much out loud, when she noticed that everyone else had stopped, staring in front of them. She followed suit and gasped out loud.

It may not have been the deep green of emerald, but the Peridot City still glowed brightly against the blue sky. The darkening blue sky, Amanda realized with a start, and she started to run. "Come on! We have to get into the city before nightfall!" The others shrugged, unaware of any curfew, but followed rapidly in her wake as she fetched up against the large green doors connecting a –

"Two-foot high fence?" Amanda blurted incredulously.

The guard standing behind the fence stared at her. "What were you expecting? A moat and drawbridge?" He scratched his ribs idly. "It doesn't matter how high the wall is; if I don't want to let you in, you're not going to get in."

And she had thought the original Gatekeeper had an attitude! She was tired, hungry, and she was starting to seriously lose patience with this incarnation of Oz. "You're a fine representative of the City!" Amanda scolded. "Don't you realize that you're the first contact a traveler has? What are strangers likely to think?"

His green eyes still regarded her blankly. "Hey, lady, I don't make the rules."

"Then you won't care if we break them – or this fence," Steve interjected, his patience even thinner than Amanda's. He ran a finger slowly down the edge of his axe, apparently not concerned about the ghastly screech of metal against metal.

The guard winced. "Okay, okay. I'll open the door. Just quit doing that."

This wasn't right either. Amanda started to object, then thought better of it. Who cared about accuracy if the annoying little man was willing to let them in? She smiled kindly at the hapless guard and swept by him as he motioned them inside, and stood for a moment happily contemplating the sights around her. Then the business at hand reasserted itself. "We're here to see the Magus," she informed the guard loftily, and directed his gaze to her shoes, fully expecting the royal reception to begin.

The guard started to shrug, then changed his mind when he noticed Steve's hand start to close on the axe blade. "Oh, yeah, right." He stuck two fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle which produced electrifying results as doors everywhere opened and people started rushing madly about. Finally the melee sorted itself out, and the little band of travelers was borne off to the main part of the City to be made presentable for their audience with the Magus.


	9. The Magus

Fed, rested and cleaned up, Amanda and her companions were escorted by their various Peridotean helpers to the Magus' hall, where the city dwellers wished the newcomers luck and scooted away before Amanda could protest. She glanced at her fellow travelers, then squared her shoulders and yanked the door open. "Come on. He's obviously here somewhere."

Jesse looked around fearfully, clutching his tail and trying not to shove the end in his mouth as they advanced down a long and very dimly lit hall. He began humming to himself, making an effort to avoid putting too many r's in "forest" so as to avoid attracting undue attention. Amanda grabbed his arm and smiled at him, although she wasn't sure who was reassuring whom. Next to her, Steve, his eyes darting around suspiciously, kept plodding forward, one hand supporting Mark, who seemed to be more wobbly-legged than usual. The only one who seemed unimpressed by the overly dramatic scene was the little dog, who prowled here and there in his mistress' wake.

They reached the end of the hall, where no new door or any sign of ingress or egress could be seen. "Now what?" Steve asked testily. And jumped with a squeal of joints as a new voice suddenly and loudly made itself heard.

"WHO ARE YOU, WHO DARE TO FACE THE GREAT AND POWERFUL M?"

Something about the voice sounded familiar, but the volume created too much distortion for Amanda to put her finger on it. "We – I – we seek your help, sir," she managed, hoping her own voice wasn't shaking.

There was a pause, then the voice spoke again. "YOU LOOK LIKE A SMART AND COMPETENT YOUNG WOMAN. FOR WHAT POSSIBLE REASON COULD YOU REQUIRE MY ASSISTANCE?"

They eyed each other, wondering who was going to go first. Mark and Steve actually started rock-paper-scissors, subsiding only when Amanda glared at them. Finally, she spoke up. "I have a request for myself and one for another who could not travel." When the voice did not interrupt, she continued, encouraged. "I arrived here by accident and need help getting home –"

"HOME? YOU CAN'T FIND YOUR WAY HOME, GIRL? DO I LOOK LIKE A TRAFFIC COP?"

Unexpectedly, Mark spoke up, his normally gentle tone sharp. "You don't look like anything – we can't see you. And that's not a very nice way to speak to a stranger who's traveled so far in a strange land."

"REALLY? AND WHAT IS IT YOU'RE AFTER, STRAW MAN? LET ME GUESS – A BRAIN, RIGHT?"

Mark blinked, startled, but the voice went on.

"AND THE METAL BOZO WANTS A HEART SO HE CAN CRY HIMSELF TO RUST AGAIN? AND – IS THAT SCRUFFY BEAST THERE REALLY A LION? I BET YOU'RE LOOKING FOR NERVE? HA HA HA HA!" The laughter stopped abruptly. "GET OUT OF HERE AND DON'T WASTE MY TIME!"

Amanda grabbed her shrinking companions before they turned tail and fled. "Wait a minute! I'm not finished!"

The silence was telling, but at least the voice wasn't yelling at her any more. She took a deep breath. "The Oldest Tree wants you to reclaim his limb from the Wicked Witch of the West."

"He What?" The Magus sounded unnerved, particularly since he had gone from speaking in all caps to initial caps only.

Amanda repeated the tree's message, and asked, "Does that mean something?"

"Hmmm. Maybe. I Wonder What That Old B—I Mean Witch – Is Up To Now."

The Magus' ruminations were suddenly interrupted by a great commotion outside, where people were running madly in all directions, babbling and pointing at the sky. The travelers ran out to see for themselves, and Amanda gasped as she saw the tell-tale smoke from the Witch's frenzied flight.

"Surenter What's-Her-Name the mudderer –" Jesse read, craning his neck. "Who's What's-Her-Name? And what does surenter mean?"

"I think it's supposed to be surrender" Amanda said coldly. "I've had enough of this. I'm not a mudderer – I mean murderer!"

There was a sudden pop and fizz of a magical explosion in front of the Witch's nose, and she hastily decided to close up shop for the day. She wheeled downward, and screeched, "I'll get you, my pretty! And your little dog – er – never mind, him too!" Another fireball landed on the back of her broom, giving it an interesting shimmy, and the Witch cut her losses and hightailed it out of there, the broom's rear smoking unhappily.

"Tiresome Old Hag," the Magus said smugly. "Ahem. If You Will Return Inside, I Will Make You An Offer You Can't Refuse."

How did he do that, Amanda wondered, but she was not in the mood to split hairs. She gathered her friends and slogged down the dim hallway again, thinking sourly that it wouldn't hurt for him to turn the lights up.

"The Oldest Tree's Limbs Have Special Powers To Strengthen Spells Cast Over Distance," the Magus mused, still concealed. "There Have Been Rumblings of Dissension Between West And Her Sister."

Amanda snorted. "That's late news. The Wicked Witch of the East is dead. Either before my house fell on her or because my house fell on her – not, I might add, because I intended my house to fall on her."

The Magus seemed surprised. "So She Either Killed Her Sister Or Cast A Spell To Bring You Here From – From?"

Maybe they were finally getting somewhere. "Los Angeles, California. Not Kansas. But far away. And she's accused me of murdering her sister."

There was a startled cough, then a derisive sound from the unseen Magus. "It Is Obvious That She Is Responsible, Since She Took The Oldest Tree's Limb." A rustling of clothing, as if the Magus had risen from his seat, and a decisive clapping of hands. "I Have Decided To Help You, On One Condition – "

Not the broom thing! Amanda groaned, and started to speak.

"Bring Me The Oldest Tree's Limb From The Wicked Witch Of The West, And I Will Grant Your Requests – And Prove That You Are No Murderer."

This was worse. Amanda would bet a day's pay that the witch didn't exactly leave that lying around carelessly; but her protests went unheard as she and her friends were bundled off hastily by the excessively cheerful (and relieved) Peridoteans. In short order, the travelers found themselves once more on the wrong side of the City gates, this time facing west.


	10. Flying Gerbils

"Hand me the hot tar," snarled the Witch, tending to her abused broom. A rodentite paw gingerly offered the bucket of smoking pitch to her as the captain of the Flying Gerbils tried to avoid inhaling the noxious fumes. The stuff safely delivered, he wiped his streaming eyes and tried to sneak away, only to be brought up short by her imperious command. He sighed and turned around. "Yes, my Queen?"

She fixed him with her evil eye, which had a tendency to wander disturbingly, making him think that maybe he should move with it before she accused him of trying to dodge her. But the Witch had other things on her mind. "My crystal tells me that murdering interloper and her misassortment of friends are approaching our borders. I don't know what they're up to, but I want it stopped. You and your underlings will bring them to me."

He stared at her. She seriously expected them to provide airline service when the gerbils had enough trouble staying aloft as it was? "Fly?" he inquired cautiously, hoping she would command him otherwise, but his hopes were dashed as she gave him a poisonous stare.

"You were planning to swim, perhaps? Maybe I should change the lot of you into guppies?"

"No, Lady," he uttered hastily, retreating backwards with as obsequious a bow as his blistered spirit could summon. "We live to serve, and will obey your command." And turned tail (what there was of it) and ran as the Witch, obviously finished with him, redirected her attention to broom repair.

The sunlight was suddenly blotted out as the intrepid travelers walked along, and they looked up to see a myriad of what appeared to be puddings with wings hovering above them. As Amanda watched in bemusement, wondering what had happened to the monkeys, one suddenly lost what little aerodynamic integrity it had and plummeted earthwards, to be followed in short order by the rest of the bizarre little beasts. Muttering profanely, the largest one slowly picked itself up, dusted itself off, and started to limp towards the foursome, only to stop short as a large axe presented itself in front of the animal's nose.

"I think that's close enough," the Woodman's voice said evenly. His expression, despite its metallic state, was less pleasant.

The creature glared at him for a moment. "Fine. Just because you've got an axe doesn't mean we couldn't pick you up and drop you in a quarry somewhere, banged, dented, and with no oil can."

Steve laughed. "You and how many others? You can't even stay aloft very well by yourselves. What did you do, piss the old hag off until she changed you into hamsters?"

It gritted its tiny little teeth. "We're not hamsters."

Amanda peeked around the broad shoulders of her tin protector, and was beset with a fit of giggles. "He's right, Steve," she hiccupped finally, trying to catch her breath. "They're not hamsters – they're – they're gerbils!"

The Lion burst out laughing. "Even I don't find flying gerbils verrrry fearrrsome!"

There was an immediate gnashing of lots of little teeth as the rest of the flying beasties absorbed the fact that they were a source of amusement even greater than they had feared, and they moved to encircle the travelers. Suddenly, despite their dumpy shapes and ludicrous wings, the gerbils didn't seem quite so laughable. Steve's axe rose in readiness for an attack, and Jesse started shadowboxing, testing his footwork. The situation became just a tad tense.

Until Amanda remembered the purpose of their journey, and realized that they were going to have to get to the Witch's domain anyway. While she was a little leery of trusting the aerodynamic quality of a trip by gerbil, they were most likely going to have to trust the little beasts to get them safely to the castle. Remembering what the flying monkeys had tried to do to her friends in the movie, she stepped forward, plastering her best "this is my pathology lab and no one else's" look on her face.

"Let's just all take a deep breath here, okay?" She looked around, nonplussed, as a slew of furry little chests rose and fell obediently, followed by Jesse's and Mark's. Steve, of course, gave her another of those irritated looks, but the axe lowered fractionally. Encouraged, she continued. "I apologize for laughing. I'm afraid I was expecting someone – a little different."

There was a chorus of mumbles about monkeys, frogs, goats, and various other fauna from the assembled gerbils. The large one glared around at his subordinates and invited them to shut up, then turned back to Amanda. "Lady, my instructions are to collect you and bring you to my mistress, the Wicked Witch of the West. She didn't say anything about in what condition, you or your pals here. So can we just get on with it? Maybe then She'll be willing to do something about this." Tiny little paws gestured at the ungainly body, and Amanda's conscience twinged. But – she didn't appreciate being threatened, either.

"Not if you're going to play rough with me or with my friends." As if on cue, Steve's axe rose again, and the leader sighed.

"Look, lady. Please don't make my life any more difficult than it is, okay? It was bad enough being a flying monkey – monkeys have tails, we can swing through the air, who needs to fly, for crying out loud? Then She gets it into Her head to experiment – and believe it or not this is the least objectionable one She's come up with so far – who the hell knows what She'll decide to do to us if we don't wrap this up right now and take you to Her? One of these days I'd really like to have a chance to return to something remotely resembling my normal life."

There was a chorus of "You bet!" and "Me too!" and "You tell her, Fearless Leader!" from the other gerbils. The leader winced. "Ever since they saw that damn movie about that moose and squirrel – Do you see what I've got to live with here?"

Amanda couldn't help but feel sorry for the little beasts, especially their hapless captain. And they did have to retrieve the Limb, after all. She swept a stern glance around at everyone. "All right. But you treat us right. No funny business. Everyone gets to the Witch's in one piece, safe and sound, no dents, scrapes or missing parts, you understand me?" She pointed to the axe for emphasis. "Or we're going to try a new roadkill recipe right here, right now."

Steve and Jesse both stared at her in shock. Where had this Amanda come from? Only Mark, with a little grin on his face, didn't seem to be surprised. But her words had the desired effect: with mumbling and scrambling, the gerbils agreed. Within only a few minutes, the winged beasties had sorted out the transport arrangements, and they were aloft and en route.


	11. Another Witch Bites the Dust

After a surprisingly uneventful and mercifully short flight, the blasted heath where the Witch made her home hove into view. Amanda glanced around at the desolate scenery and shuddered. The gerbil leader carrying her snorted. "You think this is bad. Wait till you see the sorry architectural pile She calls home."

He was right. The castle looked like it had been designed by someone coming off of a particularly spectacular LSD trip – or had an M.C. Escher fixation. Either way, half of it looked dimensionally impossible, and the remaining half was just plain ugly. The gerbil banked and aimed for a turret yawing precariously, and Amanda shut her eyes, unwilling to watch. They landed without incident, however, and he set her down with surprising gentleness. She opened her eyes to find herself looking into big, brown, disquietingly sad eyes, and her conscience pulled at her again. Surreptitiously, she reached out and stroked the soft fur, and whispered, "Don't worry. I'll tell her we were suitably intimidated."

The gerbil blinked, and ducked his head. "Thanks, lady. We owe you." The eyes hardened as a shadow fell across the room, and he glanced up. "My Queen, we have brought you Dorothy --- oops, Amanda," he amended hastily, rubbing his side where Amanda had poked him.

The Witch smiled. At least, compared to her usual expressions, it could be considered a smile. The Reader will not incur criticism by reserving judgment. "And your friends, too!" She waved at uncomfortable looking chairs which suddenly appeared. "Sit and rest; you must be exhausted from your journey."

Unwillingly, all but Steve obeyed; the Woodman moved to stand guard next to Amanda's chair, grumbling about wanting his axe back. The Witch ignored him, moving to stand in front of the young pathologist. "Now we'll get to the bottom of this, my pretty! You murdered my sister, and you will pay! First, give me the sapphire slippers!"

Amanda was fed up with the nasty old woman. "No, I won't! And I didn't murder your sister! You stole the Oldest Tree's Limb, and you did something to your sister with it! I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that she was already dead as a doornail before my house and I even arrived, and I'm going to prove it!"

The Witch's wandering eye hustled back over to cross with her good one as she worked her way through the idiom. "What's a doughnut –" she started to ask, then shook off the distraction. "You can't prove anything! Even if I did take the Limb – you know nothing, you foolish girl!" She motioned to the gerbils lounging about and pointed scraggly fingers at Amanda's friends. "Take them away, even that excuse for a dog! You, young lady, will stay locked up here until you give me those shoes!"

There were some unpleasant moments while assorted gerbils stared at each other, scratched their heads and tummies with bewilderment, then reluctantly took hold of Steve, Mark and Jesse, bearing down on them more by force of numbers than brute strength. The doughty trio, unwilling to inflict actual damage on the hapless rodents, resisted at first, then opted to submit after receiving one of those go-along-for-now looks from Amanda, who was determined to ferret out the truth from the Witch.

Her plan might have worked, too, except for Jesse. The Lion's nerve, cooped up for much too long, had finally had enough, and galvanized the royal beast into unplanned action, with unexpected results.

"Roarrrr! I'm the King of the Forrrest! All will face me and fearrr!" he spat, the r's and f's acquiring additional expectoration due to the intensity of the explosion. A substantial amount of spittle flew and landed, with exquisite accuracy, on the end of the Witch's long, bumpy, wart-ridden nose. She let out a shriek like an express train, and shrank back.

"Noooooo! Spit's even worse than waaaaater! I'm – I'm --- turning into Silly Putty!"

Now, that's quite enough, the Fair Reader says, and rightly so. After all, this is Oz, isn't it? Shouldn't the Witch be melting? Aha, but that's when only water is involved. When the additional qualities contained in Lion Spit are factored in – well, it could have been much, much worse. Silly Putty the Witch became, and Silly Putty she will remain. Ahem. Back to our story.

Amanda stared with wonder at the quivering pinkish mass on the floor, regrettably adorned with the Witch's pointy hat. "Wow, Jesse."

Steve punched the Lion on the arm, sending him reeling against the gerbils who still stood behind him and almost bowling them over. "Nice going, Lion! Wouldn't have known you had it in you!"

Jesse righted himself and coughed self-consciously. "Errr. A Lion's got to do what a Lion's got to do, you know."

The gerbils, temporarily stunned by the transformation of their monarch, unfroze and leapt into action, grabbing, poking and stomping on the pink glob, babbling excitedly and giggling madly when it proved unable to resist. After landing what appeared to be a particularly satisfying punch, the leader removed himself from the mayhem and approached Amanda with a bow. "We've got a little dilemma here, lady."

Amanda yanked her fascinated gaze away from the sight of the gerbils' revenge. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Well – on the one paw, we owe you double now for freeing us from the Witch. On the other – well, now we're stuck like this forever."

Amanda's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, no," she breathed, horror-stricken, and was shocked to see Steve surreptitiously wipe a stray tear from his eye. He looked up, caught her gaze, and coughed, but it was obvious that she had ratted him out.

Help came from an unexpected quarter. "I have an idea," Mark said diffidently, and every head swiveled (well, the gerbils' bodies swiveled along with their heads) in his direction in shock. "How about if the Gerbils help us find the Limb, then fly us back to the Peridot City? Then the Magus can't refuse to help them."

Substantial commentary broke out as the gerbils began to discuss the plan, until Amanda finally raised her hands. "Quiet, everyone, please!" She turned to the leader. "Can you – will you help us?"

He eyed her consideringly, his gaze stopping on the sapphire shoes, then he shrugged. "What the heck. There's no reason for us to stay here, anyway – if he can't change us, at least we're free to travel."

With an effort, Amanda suppressed the image of flying gerbils on a long-term tour of Oz, and smiled at him. "I knew you'd help." She included the rest of the rodents in her smile. "Come on, let's find that Limb!"

They tore through the castle, finding a vast assortment of magical and unmagical items, some of which Amanda didn't even want to consider the significance of, until, hot, tired and sweaty (with the exception of Mark and Steve), the motley crew collapsed in the main hall. Amanda pushed her damp hair back from her face. "Lots of junk. No Limb," she said disgustedly. "Now what?"

Steve shrugged, immune to the disconcerting whine of metal which made the others squeeze their eyes shut with pain. "The Witch is destroyed at least – that should count for something." He glanced around and let out a yell. "You mangy little mutt, not in the house!"

With an irritated snuff for the Woodman, Toto lowered the leg which he had started to raise and headed for the door, abandoning the lovely piece of wood he had found and had planned to christen. Amanda followed him with her eyes and then glanced back at the intended target. Light dawned. "That's it!" she crowed triumphantly, and leapt for the branch before the little dog changed his mind.

The rest stared as she picked up the Limb, waving it around in a little victory dance around the room. "That's it?" Jesse echoed, putting the communal thought into words.

She nodded. "See, it's all gnarly, but it's not crooked or askew like everything else in this place. It's obviously the Limb." Incautiously, she aimed it at one of the distorted pieces of furniture, which obligingly exploded, sending the gerbils scattering. Fatigue forgotten, she skipped towards the door. "Come on, everyone! We're off to see de M!"


	12. Magus Unmasked

It was an optimistic bunch which presented itself once more at the City gate. The gatekeeper took one look at the Gerbils, cracked a smile, and lost it immediately as Steve poked him with the butt of the axe. "Wipe that silly grin off your face and let us in," the Woodman advised softly, his eyes like blue steel. The gatekeeper coughed and obeyed, wincing as eau de gerbil passed by, then followed, curious to see the denouement. By the time they reached the Magus' corridor, every Peridotean along the way had followed the gatekeeper's example, and a large crowd pushed its way into the hallway behind Amanda and her friends.

"OH, YOU'RE BACK, ARE YOU?"

Despite the capitals, the Magus' voice sounded strained, as if he knew what was coming and didn't like it. Amanda brandished the Limb. "We've brought you what you asked for, and destroyed the Witch in the process! Now will you please grant our wishes?"

"Your Wishes." Now he really sounded rattled. "Oh, Right. Your Wishes. Well. It Seems To Me That Your Friends Already Have Had Their Wishes Granted. The Scarecrow Has Used His Head Repeatedly; The Woodman Has Found His Emotional Center; And The Lion Has Acted With Extreme Courage."

Those three worthies blinked, stared at each other, and scratched their respective heads. "Wait a minute –" Jesse started, but the Magus wasn't finished.

"And, Since The Limb Can Be Used To Throw Major Spells Over Distance Without Detection, It Is Clear That The Witch Used It To Kill Her Sister."

"But I already knew I didn't kill her sister!" Amanda pointed out acidly. "What about my wish? I just want to go home! I'm worried about my boys, and I need to be with them!"

"Erumpfh. Home. Er. Um. Can't Be Done. Sorry. Have To Go Now, Important Appointment," the Magus stated with an obvious air of finality.

What? No pretense of even trying to do anything? Where was the damn curtain, anyway, Amanda thought, her temper close to flashpoint, and she started forward, hefting the Limb much in the manner of a baseball bat. The Magus continued to mumble, apparently unaware of her advance, which proved to be his undoing. Her eyes slowly becoming used to the murkiness of the hall, Amanda finally saw what looked like a curtain, which twitched as the Magus moved about. Gritting her teeth, she swung the Limb, and connected.

"Ow! What the hell –" The curtain retracted, and a tall, angry-looking man stood there rubbing his posterior. Amanda stared.

"Chief – Masters?" she finally stammered.

His scowl turned into a puzzled frown. "No, Captain Masters. I never made chief," he replied automatically, then he gathered his wits. "You Didn't Hear That," he added, in a rather pathetic attempt to regain control.

Amanda wasn't having any. "Huh-uh. Forget the exaggerated capitals, mister. You made me a promise, and you're going to keep it. Give my friends what they asked for, and get me home!"

Masters-Magus spread his hands in capitulation. "I can't. I'm not even a real Magus. I'm just here by accident: I fell asleep one day watching the Wizard of Oz and woke up here in the Peridot City." He shook his head disgustedly. "I couldn't convince these morons that I wasn't the Magus, and Cheryl just laughed hysterically every time I asked her for help, so I finally gave in."

Cheryl had laughed at him? The corner of Amanda's mouth started to curve upward as she pictured the scene; then she took herself firmly in hand. "Well, you're going to have to either think of something or do some major groveling and convince her to help, because otherwise the gerbils and I are going to make your life not worth living."

He shuddered. "Please. They were bad enough as flying goats."

That image was definitely going to stay far, far away. Amanda stood firm. "Call her. Now."


	13. You Can Always Get What You Want

"Oh, he doesn't have to do that," the Good Witch remarked. Amanda whipped around to see Cheryl leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a big fat grin on her face. She was obviously enjoying herself. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world." She snapped her fingers, and a pair of thrones appeared. Cheryl made herself comfortable in one, and motioned to Amanda to take the other. "Sit down, take a load off. This may take a while," she advised, basking in the wide-eyed adoration on Steve's face as he watched her.

No fool, the Magus got down on one knee. "Please, Cheryl, send her home and do something about the Gerbils – or send me home and do whatever you want."

Bantering aside, Cheryl gave him a hard, shrewd look. "I'm not sending you anywhere just yet. We still have some negotiating to do." She beckoned to the leader of the Gerbils. "Okay. You were pretty obnoxious monkeys, especially after you got wings, but I realize the Witch was pretty hard on you guys after that. I'm assuming you're over the gerbil thing."

He grimaced. "Yes, please. I don't ever want to see another pellet again."

Cheryl nodded encouragingly. "So ---?"

He glanced at his fellow gerbils, and they huddled for a few minutes. While it was difficult for the others to distinguish the more desirable possibilities, it was clear from the pithiness of the commentary that goats, guppies and toads were definitely not on the A-list. Finally, the leader emerged and offered diffidently, "Squirrels. And we'd like to keep the wings, please."

Cheryl grinned. "You got it, Fearless Leader." She waved her wand, and the lumpy brown bodies were transformed into graceful grey ones, which immediately took to the air with squeals of delight. She watched them with a smile, then shooed them off. "Okay, off with you. Go have fun. Go find moose."

The issue of the gerbils resolved, the Good Witch turned her attention to Amanda and her friends. "Let's see. This should be pretty simple, really." She stood up and raised her wand. "Lion."

Encouraged by the twinkle in Cheryl's eyes and her obvious sense of humor, Jesse strode to her side. "Yes, ma'am."

She brought the wand up and tapped him lightly on each shoulder, and conjured a large medal out of thin air. "You are one righteously courageous lion. Rule your Forest with respect for all, and all will respect you." The brightness in his eyes was unmistakable, and he retreated to show the others his medal, happy noises growling in his throat.

"Scarecrow."

Reassured by her treatment of Jesse, Mark wobbled over as steadily as he could. She gave him a hug, tapped his temples with her wand, and produced a scroll. "The Magus was right, you know. You came up with the ideas to save the day. And this is your commendation as proof."

Pleased, Mark returned to Amanda, showing her the scroll shyly. She could have sworn he was blushing, but that was impossible for a scarecrow, wasn't it?

For a Woodman, now, was another matter. Upon hearing his name called, Steve had approached the Good Witch with some hesitation. "Um – maybe this isn't a good thing," he mumbled as she raised her wand.

Cheryl gave him a dazzling smile. "Oh, yes, it is. Trust me." The wand tapped the metal chest, the Good Witch kissed the Woodman's lips resoundingly, and the entire City discovered that a man made out of tin not only had a heart but blushed – all over.

Now it was clearly Amanda's turn. "Uh – let me guess. I click the shoes together and say, there's no place like home?" she asked.

Cheryl stared at her. "Not."

What? How was she supposed to get home? Amanda said as much, with some heat, and the Good Witch laughed. "It's not as difficult as you think. Take off the shoes, pick up the dog, and say nighty-night. When you wake up, you'll be wherever it was you fell asleep."

That simple, all right. Amanda found herself suddenly besieged by airborne squirrels squeaking their thanks, then her three friends pushed through the furry throng. Jesse was the first to hug her fiercely, promising to make her proud of him. Then Steve, somewhat diffidently, presented himself for her embrace. "Make sure you always have your oilcan," she reminded him, and he actually laughed, the so-blue eyes twinkling.

And the Scarecrow. Saying goodbye was almost as hard as it would have been if she had been leaving Mark himself. She threw herself into his arms with a little sob. "I won't forget you," she mumbled, and her mentor's face smiled back at her. "I know. And I'll never forget you, because now I can remember you," he replied.

Amanda tore herself away and picked up the little dog, who rolled his tongue out at her happily. "Okay," she said, stepping out of the shoes, which suddenly seemed much too big. "What about him?" she asked, gesturing towards the Magus.

Cheryl chuckled. "I'll send him back when I'm good and ready. Until then – maybe some of your friends may have a less stressful time at work." Amanda's eyes widened, but the Good Witch shook her head. "Uh-uh. Against the rules. Now wave goodbye and say nighty-night." She raised her wand as Amanda complied, and Oz blinked out.


	14. Awakening

Amanda relaxed back against the sofa cushions and stretched. She must have slept for hours – the TV was off, and she could hear the boys playing in their room. The light streaming in through the windows clearly indicated that morning had arrived – some time ago. What a dream, she thought to herself wonderingly. She obviously needed to stop working so hard, or take a breather more often. She stood up and wandered towards the kitchen, thinking longingly of coffee, and heard a knock on the door.

It was Steve and Jesse. "We brought you breakfast," Jesse said. "As a peace offering for being so grumpy this past week," Steve added, his eyes twinkling.

Amanda blinked, but something in the basket Jesse was holding smelled mouth-wateringly delicious. Far be it from her to say no, she thought, and waved them in. "Mark's not with you?"

Steve glanced back. "He was – he must have stopped for something on the way."

While they set out the food, Amanda told them about her dream. "It was so real, too! And you were in it, Steve, and you, Jesse, and Mark, and Cheryl, and even Chief Masters!"

Jesse shrugged. "You have been working pretty hard, Amanda. And if it can happen to Dorothy, why not to you too?"

Why not, indeed, Amanda thought. "You're probably right. I never left Kansas, I guess."

Mark stuck his head around the door, at his heels a small fluff of fur bearing the satisfied air of accomplished business. "Hey, Amanda! When did you get a dog?"


End file.
